When resistance looks like a hallaca

1of5A traditional Venezuelan Christmas plate, “Plato Navideño,” including dishes such as vegetarian hallacas, pan de jamón and ensalada de gallina is served at the home of Siury Pulgar of Galipan Catering in San Jose.Photo: Josie Lepe / Special to The Chronicle

2of5Traditional Venezuelan hallacas cook in a pot during the traditional Venezuelan holiday feast at the home of Siury Pulgar of Galipan Catering in San Jose.Photo: Josie Lepe / Special to The Chronicle

3of5Doris Farias de Pulgar of Galipan Catering ties string on the hallacas wrapped in banana leaves. The traditional Venezuelan dish is served during a holiday gathering at the home of Siury Pulgar of Galipan Catering in San Jose.Photo: Josie Lepe / Special to The Chronicle

4of5Doris Farias de Pulgar of Galipan Catering makes a vegetarian version of the pan de jamón (ham-stuffed bread).Photo: Josie Lepe / Special to The Chronicle

5of5Candy Brito, Chiquy “Boom” Mejia and Isabella Delgado dance during a traditional Venezuelan holiday gathering at the home of Siury Pulgar of Galipan Catering in San Jose.Photo: Josie Lepe / Special to The Chronicle

This is A Million Plates, the Chronicle’s regular column about immigrant food in the Bay Area, centered around the theory that there are a million different plates of food eaten every day in this region.

To Doris Farias, 60, and her daughter Siury Pulgar, 39, Christmas is a time for hallacas. And hallacas means it’s time for La Fiesta de Las Hallacas.

For Farias, it’s a favorite memory of her Venezuelan childhood, a time when her mom, aunts, uncles and cousins would sleep over at her grandmother’s home and have a hallaca-making party, cooking all night. It’s a tradition she passed on to her daughter and has now brought all the way to south San Jose to share with her young granddaughters.

Hallacas are often called Venezuelan tamales because both have corn doughs stuffed with a filling, then wrapped in banana leaves. Both are labor-intensive and best made in the company of family and friends. But that’s where the similarities end. While a Mexican tamale is all thick dough with a little filling, a hallaca is a thin dough wrapped around a good amount of guiso, a filling traditionally made with meat (beef, pork or chicken) cooked with onions, peppers, olives, capers and raisins. Mexican tamales are steamed, while hallacas are wrapped in a banana leaf painted with bright orange annatto-infused oil and then boiled.

In the center of her daughter’s large kitchen, Farias is surrounded by family and friends chatting happily in Spanish as they all sip chicha de arroz, a rich and drinkable Venezuelan rice pudding. She’s been prepping for days. Her two guisos — one chicken, one vegetable — have been cooked and cooled. Her dough has been made, thanks to a combination of Harina P.A.N., water, a little sugar and juices from the guiso. The banana leaves have been washed and cut, and the annatto oil infused.

Siury Pulgar of Galipan Catering cuts the traditional pan de jamón (ham stuffed bread) for a celebration of Venezuelan tradition at her home in San Jose.

Photo: Josie Lepe / Special to The Chronicle

She lines people up into an assembly line around the kitchen island and puts on an apron adorned with the yellow, blue and red Venezuelan flag. Using her hand, she flattens a small dough ball on top of a banana leaf, then tops it with plastic wrap and expertly presses a small cutting board on top until she has an even, thin circle. She passes the dough to her left, where the next person spoons guiso into the center, and tops it with raw slices of bell pepper and onion. It’s passed again, and the next person uses the banana leaf to help fold the dough around the guiso, then folds up the banana leaf and wraps it with a string.

This is truly Farias’ happy place. Her daughter, Pulgar, immigrated to the U.S. in 2003 for school, married an Indian immigrant and had two daughters. Pulgar moved her parents to the U.S. in late 2015 when it became too dangerous for them to stay in Venezuela. Since Hugo Chavez became president in 1999, the country has suffered from hyperinflation, food and medicine shortages, power cuts and organized crime. Farias left all of her family and friends in Macuto, Vargas, Venezuela, just 45 minutes away from Caracas, the country’s capital. She constantly worries about their lack of access to basic human rights and their safety, as does everyone else at the party.

That’s why so many Venezuelans are leaving their country, she says — 2.3 million since 2014, according to the British Broadcasting Corp. The guests at the party, many who also immigrated to the U.S. from Venezuela in the last two decades, concur, sharing their own experiences.

“Even if they have money, they can’t get the basics, and things like electricity, water and gas can be shut off at anytime,” says Joaquin Delgado, who left in the ‘90s for school in Japan and moved to New York for work in 2000. His family remains in Venezuela, and he tries to help by sending his relatives on trips outside of the country,and shipping them food

Farias fights those hard feelings by cooking and inviting people over. “Preparing the traditional foods of Venezuela is one way of staying connected with my roots and my people, my childhood and my traditions,” she says in Spanish, as translated by her daughter. “To me, cooking is a way to share love and to communicate with others.”

That mission has recently translated to her new food company named Galipán Catering, which mostly caters to the local Venezuelan community. Farias, who used to sell healthy versions of Venezuelan food and whole wheat bread at home, even decided to offer a full Venezuelan Christmas meal — hallacas, pan de jamon and torta negra (a fruit cake with chocolate and rum). Pulgar helps out, and Venezuelans drive from all over Northern California to buy her food.

Pulgar also carries fond memories of La Fiesta de Las Hallacas. Every holiday and Christmas, her family would gather at her grandma’s house and make 200 to 300 hallacas over the course of three days. “My cousins and I would make our own mud hallacas in the yard, with pebbles for the olives and raisins,” she says. One of those cousins is living in Germany as a political refugee. He’s a journalist who wrote about the Venezuelan government, Pulgar says, which means it’s no longer safe for him to live there.

The truth is that a party like this has become a luxury for most Venezuelans. “This could never happen back home. There is no way they could get all of this food,” Pulgar says. “We just shipped a few boxes full of food to some families back home so they can have a Christmas meal.”

While the hallacas boil, Delgado sits down at the table with a cuatro, a Venezuelan guitar similar to a ukulele, and starts playing and singing songs. His wife, Delhy Saggese, grabs a drum and sets it between her legs, using chunky sticks to tap out a beat. Another guest, Chiquy Mejia, starts dancing, and then Delgado and Saggese’s teen daughter, Isabella, joins. Most of the women follow.

Mejia, a dance instructor, puts on a song called “Pa’ Venezuela” by Max Pizzolante, and explains the relevance of the tune: “This is a song with a very important message. It’s telling the bad people to get out of Venezuela.” Mejia leads them in an energetic choreographed dance, moving in sync with the drum beats as the rest of the guests clap and cheer.

It’s a lively and upbeat song, talking about Venezuela’s difficult situation. It’s a study in juxtaposition, much like this party, a mix of sadness, frustration and the hopefulness of a people. As the ending chorus plays, the entire group is singing together, saying the words “fuera!” (out!) over and over.

To those who don’t love you, OUT!

To those who disrespect you, OUT!

To those who mistreat you, OUT!

To those who take advantage, OUT!

And the last line: “Mi Venezuela pronto vas a sonreír otra vez.” My Venezuela, soon you will smile again.